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Saturday, July 01, 2006

Another Round Robin anyone?

I'm bored and the long holiday weekend stretches before me, tempting me to go outside and do things like paint the house or clean the cobwebs off the front porch or--heaven forbid--clean my office. (I've already cleaned out one corner, quite enough for today). So how about another round robin? Anybody? Bueller?

The beginning:

"This meeting will now come to order." Josie Davenport banged the gavel on the kitchen table and did her best to look dignified and "official." Watching Midge Sinclair stuff a brownie in her mouth—whole—fixed that. She grinned and shook her head.

"Sarah, will you give the treasury report?"

Sarah Lemmons stood and nervously cleared her throat. "The kitty has twelve dollars and thirty-eight cents. I know we didn't make as much on the bake sale as we'd hoped, but that was because everyone kept sampling the goodies. There wasn't much left to sell."

Guilty looks crossed most of the well-rounded faces at the table.

"Okay. Next time we'll wrap things better so they're harder to get into. Donna, do you have our resolution ready to present to the group for a vote?" Josie gave Donna an encouraging smile. By far the shyest of the group, she tried to make herself invisible by slouching in her chair and staring at the table.

Donna Mitchell lifted her head with a neck-jarring jerk, then slowly pushed herself upright. She pulled a sheet of paper out of a folder and smoothed it carefully on the table. Her voice trembled as she read.

Be it henceforth known that the members of the XXX club resolve to rid the world of prejudice toward women who are weight challenged, to bolster the self-esteem of said women, and to resist society's determination to heap loads of guilt upon our heads for not conforming to its ideal of the perfect woman. We resolve not to diet for any reason other than our health, or because WE want to. We will not diet for anyone but ourselves. We resolve to lobby for wider airplane and theater seats, attractive clothes in sizes eighteen and up, and real people of size in movies and television. We resolve to develop effective put-downs for people who stare at us in disgust when we eat, who make hurtful remarks about our size, or who counsel us to lose weight "for our own good." We resolve to boycott all gyms, health clubs, fat farms, and diet centers. Last, but not least, we resolve to kick the ass of anyone who treats us as less than human because we're big.

With her cheeks flushed and a bead of sweat trickling across her brow, Donna slumped back down in her chair to a round of applause. Josie stood up and banged the gavel on the table for order. "Is there any discussion about the resolution?" No one spoke. "Would someone like to make a motion to accept the resolution as read?"

Midge lifted her hand. "I make a motion to accept the resolution as read."

"The motion has been made. Will someone second the motion?"

Lawanda Jackson spoke for the first time since the meeting was called to order. "I'll second it, godammit. It's about friggin' time someone did."

Josie grinned and gave her a high five. "The motion has been made and seconded. All in favor raise your right hand." Five hands went up.

"The motion has passed unanimously. Ladies, our group is now officially on the warpath. Congratulations. And please, help yourselves to the cookies."

89 comments:

Once the refreshments were gone, the XXX Club got down to business. While the group discussed how they would put the resolution to work, Josie watched Midge with concern. At two hundred and fifty pounds, Midge was still beautiful. She was tall, so the weight didn't make her look that bad, but her self-esteem had suffered to the point that she was almost phobic about being seen in public. She'd missed all of her class reunions for the last thirty years, and she'd quit more jobs than Josie would ever have during her entire lifetime.

Once upon a time, Midge had only weighed 115 pounds. That was when she was sixteen. Three kids and two miscarriages later, she'd probably never see two hundred again. But she never quit trying. Every time she read about a new fad, or heard about a new miracle treatment, she was first in line to try it out. And lately she'd seemed so depressed, almost like she'd given up.

Then there was Donna. So quiet, so timid, yet underneath her shy exterior, anger simmered. Her husband took every opportunity to ridicule her publicly. Problem was, Donna wasn't really overweight. She didn't have the muscle tone she'd had in high school, but what middle age woman did without the help of a plastic surgeon? She was a volcano silently bubbling beneath the surface, ready to blow at any moment.

Sarah Lemmons was harder for Josie to figure out. Her husband seemed to not mind her extra weight, and neither did Sarah, but she was ferocious in her defense of her friends. She hurt when they hurt, then she fought back against whoever had caused them pain. Since she'd been overweight as a child, she knew how cruel people could be to those who weren't perfect and she'd made it her life's mission to end the injustice.

LaWanda was a piece of work. Josie grinned as she watched her best friend dance around the kitchen, spouting obscenities. It was part of her personality, disconcerting to some, endearing to Josie. LaWanda was skinny as a rail now, still beautiful at fifty, and made her friends among the fat and friendless because she'd once been one of them. Josie loved her for it.

She herself was overweight, though she watched what she ate and exercised regularly. She'd heard her share of fat jokes and been the recipient of disgusted looks. She tried not to let them bother her, but they hurt all the same.

"Sheeit! Pay attention. We're going out tonight to celebrate our new status. Where do you want to go?"

She started to say she didn't feel like going anywhere, but the looks of anticipation on the others' faces stopped her. Who was she to rain on their parade when she was the one who had organized it in the first place?

This, from Donna, the shyest, most reserved woman on the planet? Josie couldn't believe it. Who fed her a box of Cheerios this morning? "Well," she said and cleared her throat. "Why not? I mean, the place is popular and--"

"Because we don't stand a chance in a room full of wild-ass bimbos, that's why." LaWanda stuffed a jumbo cookie into her mouth, chewed ferociously.

The rest of the group still stared at Donna as if she'd grown horns.

"Listen up, everyone," Josie ordered. "Why not vote?" By the looks on their faces, The Cathouse wouldn't make the top ten destinations. She wrote a list of club names on the blackboard. "These are our choices."

"EVeryone in favor of Billy Bob's, raise your hand." Josie crossed her fingers, hoping everyone would choose her suggestion over The Cathouse. They'd narrowed it down to these last two choices, but she just couldn't see herself barging into the midst of the young, hip, and skinny crowd that frequented Cat's. At least Billy Bob's drew all kinds, from grandmothers to wannabe cowboys.

She cringed when nearly every hand in the room remained down, except for hers and LaWanda's. She sighed. "I guess that makes it nearly unanimous for the Cathouse. Meet back here at seven, dressed to kill."

Everyone but Midge nodded. "Midge? Are you in?"

I don't know. Bob will get mad if I go out."

LaWanda snorted in disgust. "Fuck Bob. No, I take that back. Don't fuck Bob until he straightens up. You need to get out, get away from that asshole, and kick up your heels for a change. If he gives you any flack, you can spend the night at my house."

Donna stood in front of the full-length mirror and admired her figure in the short denim skirt and slinky gold top. She looked pretty good for a forty-something.

Her husband Jack walked in, took one look at her, and yelled, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She took in a calming breath, put a smile on her face, and turned to look at him. "I'm going out with Josie and the gang to celebrate our new club. I put your dinner in the fridge. All you have to do is nuke it for two minutes."

"You're not going out in public dressed like that. What if someone we know sees you?"

"What's wrong with this outfit? It looks good on me." She took another deep breath, her nerves starting to twang like an overstretched guitar string.

"It looks like shit on you. It makes you look even fatter than you already are. Put on something else, preferably something that covers all that flab." He turned and slammed the closet door, closing Donna inside.

When she looked in the mirror again, she didn't see a normal-sized woman. All she saw was a fat slob. "So who cares? I'm not going out looking for a man. This is the closest thing I have to a sexy outfit, and I'm wearing it!" Her voice echoed inside the closet, a bit shaky but growing stronger as she spoke.

She snagged a pair of high-heeled sandals and put them on. "So there!"

"Not, not a bikini. But something that fits. Something that says I take pride in myself as a woman." Josie swallowed hard, telling herself she believed in XXX and what they were trying to accomplish.

"Right." Sarah pinched her waistline's general area, squeezing a couple of smooshy inches between her fingers. "Right. Pride in myself."

Josie warmed to the cause. "We are what size we are. We are beautiful." Her volume increased. "We are sexy. Muumuus are out. Anyone who shows up at the Cathouse in any article of clothing that resembles a flowered tent will be kicked out of the XXX Club."

Everyone stopped in their tracks. "Are you serious?" Midge called from the center of the parking lot.

"I can't kick you out," Josie stated in a strong voice. "This is a democracy. But let's go show those--"

"Wild-ass bimbos?" LaWanda suggested.

Josie nodded. "Let's show those wild-ass bimbos some competition!" With more confidence than she felt, she punched the air with her fist. "Big is sexy!"

Sarah nodded. "I'm in."

"Effing A!" LaWanda twirled in a circle. "We are all in." She jabbed a finger in Midge's direction, then Donna's. "Show the world what we are made of!

Josie's stomach fluttered at the compliment. God, how long had it been since a man had even noticed she was alive? She turned to smile at the man who now held the door open so the group could enter the club. "Thank you."

He smiled back and started to say something more, but the crowd surged forward at the sight of the open door, and she lost sight of him. Damn.

They paid their cover charges and stepped into the dimly-lit club.

"Okay, now remember, we are beautiful. We're not taking any shit off any anorexic Barbies or overstuffed Kens. Right?" Josie took a deep breath and pulled the door open, hoping she could remember her own words when the time came.

"Right, gawdammit. Let's git 'em, girls." LaWanda seemed to shimmer in anticipation as she flounced through the door. The others followed in varying degrees of dread and trepidation.

They found a table in the café area and sat down. "We'll eat first, then we'll party," Josie said.

"Sounds good to me. I'm having the ribs and French fries." LaWanda smiled up at the waiter as he approached the table. "Hot damn. I wouldn't mind snacking on that set of ribs."

"I wouldn't either, if I wasn't married." Midge hid her face behind her menu, but not before her blush had the others chuckling.

"You might be married, honey, but you ain't dead."

"Leave her alone, LaWanda. If she's not buying, that just means more for you." Josie grinned and patted Midge's arm. "It's okay to look, you know. Nobody here's going to be carrying tales to Bob."

"I know, but what's the point when no one's going to look back?" Midge laid her menu on the table with a sigh. "I'll have the twelve ounce rib-eye, medium rare. And a beer." She watched as the waiter walked away. "He does have a nice butt. Bob used to have a nice butt, too."

"Hey, forget Bob for tonight. We're here to celebrate our official status as a group and to practice being beautiful. You, girlfriend, need to reread the resolutions." Sarah patted her hair and struck a diva pose. "Brian trusts me, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna dance with a good-lookin' boy or two."

Donna had a look in her eye that made Josie nervous. "What are you planning? You look like a woman with something on her mind."

Donna lifted her chin. "I'm gonna get laid, if I can find a man who's willing."

"Sheeeit! I thought that was my line. What about your husband?" LaWanda raised her eyebrows and planted her chin on her fist.

"I don't have a husband. Not tonight. I've had it. I'm tired of being put down, tired of being told I'm fat and ugly and no one else would want me. I think Jack is full of shit and I'm going to prove it."

"Now Donna, you don't mean that." Always the peacemaker, Midge opened her big mouth at the wrong time.

"You don't believe me? Watch me." With that, Donna shoved her chair back and left the café, headed for the tables around the dance floor. Two minutes later she was groping a leather-clad stud as they spun across the dance floor.

Midge sighed, "I think we've created a monster."

"Well, gawdammit, it's about time she got a little backbone, don't ya think? If I'd been married to that jerk, he'd have been dead a long time ago." The waiter set Lawanda's ribs in front of her and she broke one off and took a bite. "Mmmm, perfect. Thanks, hot stuff."

Donna glanced over at LaWanda and shook her head as she watched the man lean down and take Josie's mouth with his. "I hope she doesn't regret this."

"Hell, who could regret kissing a man with a face and body like that? I'm gonna get me some of that, too, just as soon as I finish these ribs." Lawanda took a big bite of red beans, then waved her hand in front of her mouth. "Woo-whee, those are hot!" She washed them down with beer.

The couple at the next table left, and a couple of skinny, plastic-boobed girls took their place. They glanced at the group of overweight women and shook their heads in disgust.

LaWanda glared at them until they looked away.

"When does the band come on? I want to get a good seat," Midge said around a big bite of steak.

"We ain't gonna waste good flirtin' time sittin' in no friggin' chairs. You can hear them anywhere in the place. We'll listen from the dance floor." LaWanda gave her a wicked grin and shook her head. "Married women. You'd think you lost all your sex drive when you said 'I do.'"

A snicker from the next table caught her attention and she turned to find the two girls watching them with open disdain. Lawanda leaned over and placed her hand on one girl's arm. "Honey, I hate to pry, but you look so sickly I just had to ask what's wrong with you. Do you have cancer? Anorexia? I hope you're seeing a doctor. If not, I can give you the name of a great Internist. Whatever's wrong, he'll find it and fix it." She pulled a card from her purse and laid it on their table. "Give him a call. You look awful."

She turned back to the group with a wink, leaving the two girls sputtering. "That's how it's done, ladies. Watch and learn."

By the time the dance ended, Josie was exhausted and out of breath. And not just from the dancing. Man, could Dillon kiss! At least she'd finally remembered his name, though at the time she could barely remember her own. She'd accepted his invitation for a slow dance, which she'd hoped would slow her heart rate a bit, but with his hands all over her, her pulse kept pounding to beat the band.

Okay, enough. This was moving too fast. "Thank you for the dance and..." She stammered to a halt. How did you thank someone for kissing you like you hadn't been kissed in years? "Well, you know. But I need to go check on my friends."

Midge twisted her chubby fingers together. "Right after you headed to the dance floor. She'd been acting kind of strange all night, so I went looking for her when she didn't come right back. I checked the bathroom, the phone booths, everywhere."

Josie searched the dance floor and the surrounding tables. No Donna.

LaWanda had found herself a partner and was engaging in her own version of Dirty Dancing. Midge stood near the bar sipping a beer, trying to make herself invisible behind a post as she scanned every corner of the room for any sign of their missing member. Sarah seemed content checking out the t-shirts behind the gift counter, looking for a souvenir to take home to her husband.

But there was absolutely no sign of Donna.******

"Where did you go? I've been looking for you for over an hour!" Josie's voice cracked from the strain she'd been under, worrying about Donna. Just as she'd decided to call the police, Donna had stepped through the front door of The Cathouse like she didn't have a care in the world.

Donna hugged Josie and cast a quick glance at the others. "I'm sorry. I went outside for a smoke and met the most amazing man. We talked for a while, then we went out to his truck. He's so easy to talk to, I just lost track of time. Nothing happened, though. We just talked."

Josie didn't believe her for a second, but it wasn't her place to judge. "Well, next time let someone know where you're going, okay? Oh, and you might want to button your blouse."

Donna looked down and saw that her shirt was buttoned crookedly and blushed, then fixed it and tucked it securely into her skirt. "Better?"

Josie nodded and turned to leave. Donna put a hand on her arm and said softly, "Josie, I'm sorry I made you worry. Jack did a number on me before I left and I guess I kind of lost my head. Will you forgive me?"

Josie sighed. She should have known Jack wouldn't let Donna leave the house without trying to destroy any self-confidence she had left. It wasn't Donna's fault that she'd gone with the first man who paid her a little attention. If she'd slept with the guy, well, that was something she'd have to live with.

The others moved closer, surrounding Donna in a show of support. When Josie wrapped an arm around her shoulder, the others joined in for a group hug. Donna, you haven't done anything you need my forgiveness for. But if it makes you feel better, of course I forgive you. Just don't scare me like that again."

As Lawanda hugged Donna she whispered in her ear "Why didn't you wait a few minutes before leaving? I had condoms to give you.""Ladies, before we lose anybody else I have a gift for each of you. I have three condoms apiece, one lubed, one ribbed and one flavored. And if you need more, you know where to find me- on the dance floor" she giggled.

Midge and Sarah looked as though they wanted to disappear, hiding their condoms as soon as they received them. Donna sat at the table, belly laughing until a new dance partner appeared to take her spinning on the floor.

Josie stared at hers. "That's like LaWanda," she joked, her palm full of prophylactics. "Always practical. And horny."

"Who's horny?" A familiar male voice interrupted Josie's attempt to draw Midge and Sarah out of their self-consciousness.

"Oh, Lord," Sarah whispered, coloring and turning her head.

Josie grabbed for her gold bag and stuffed the condoms in it, knowing Dillon would already have seen them.

How could she tell him that he made her feel beautiful when he looked at her with those brown eyes? That she'd never forget the feel of his hands on her body, the taste of his kiss. This wasn't a man who was easily forgotten. She couldn't tell him those things, because despite what he said, he was virtually a stranger. So all she did was smile and say, "I'll tell you, if you'll tell me where and when we met before."

His arms curled around her, pulling her close until her cheek rested against his chest. His hands slid down until they rested at the small of her back, pulling her lower body against his, letting her feel how she was affecting him. "Think back about 18 years. Your aunt's back yard. It was pitch dark, you were leaning against the bricks, and there were two young boys there wanting so desperately to feel you up."

Oh God. It couldn't be. She pulled back and looked deep into his eyes. "Don't tell me you're Dill the Pill!"

dill the pill??? he was 5 years younger than her wasn't he? And when did he get soo big and handsome? She couldn't say anything outloud. She couldn't breathe. Her face turned red as she gasped for air."Josie, are you all right?" Dillon said. "Talk to me!"

Josie clamped her mouth closed, not realizing it had been hanging open until LaWanda hissed in her ear as she passed by. She struggled to take a deep breath. "My God. You've, um, changed."

She didn't know whether to be embarrassed to the core that the first boy who'd ever gotten his hands in her pants was now a total hunk, or to let the thrill of excitement zinging through her core lead the way.

He'd had a way about him even at twelve. He'd sweet-talked her into letting him touch her breasts, his touch doing funny things "down there" as well. As though he'd known, somehow, he cupped her there with his free hand, squeezing gently. Then he'd pushed her shirt up and settled his mouth over the small just-starting-to develop mound of her breast and sucked gently. Her legs had clamped shut automatically, trapping his hand between them. He'd looped one finger around the edge of her shorts and shocked her when he'd slid it beneath her panties.

She'd never been the same since that night. And the other boy, whose name and face she'd forgotten as soon as Dill's hand first touched her breast, never even made it to the infield.

Donna glanced across the table at her latest dance partner. Cool green eyes, blond hair, and an ass to die for. Since when did she give a damn about such things?

Not since Jack had quit looking at her the way he did in high school. Forcing herself to be honest, she admitted that was about halfway through her pregnancy with Janie, six months after they got married. Had her entire married life truly been this pile of shit? The constant arguing and intimidation, the ridicule?

His goddamn affair.

She pushed the thought away. Jack's betrayal had nothing to do with this moment. A moment she'd stolen for herself. She wouldn't let that rat bastard ruin it.

"What's the matter?" Eric leaned over and stroked Donna's cheek. "You disappeared on me for a minute."

After their last dance together, he'd tugged her toward this dark corner across the room from the XXX's. Bought her a beer. Charmed her with stories about his days in college, his stupid fraternity antics.

"Just a little too much of the real world." A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You come to a place like this to escape it, and it follows you."

"What you need is another beer." He got up and pulled his wallet out of his dark blue, butt-hugging jeans.

"I warn you, I intend to get shit-faced, so don't waste your money on anything expensive."

Eric chuckled, bent and kissed Donna's hair before heading to the bar.

The tender gesture brought a lump to her throat. Is that what it was like? She couldn't remember courting.

But she'd been a teenager before and during her first year of marriage, and it was different with teenagers anyway. All they wanted was a turn in the backseat, scratching an itch anytime they could get away with it.

Flush with heat, she remembered her excursion in the FRONT seat of that cowboy's pickup earlier. Brian was his name. He'd been so nice, chatting while they smoked. He'd suggested they get to know each other better, and she'd been ripe with the desire to piss Jack off and agreed to get into the man's truck.

One thing had led to another. Natural, right, when Jack hadn't touched her in years? Well, he'd TOUCHED her, but only for his own use.

And she'd ached with kiss she'd stolen in Brian's company, ached to be needed. To be beautiful. What would it hurt?

Right up until Brian unzipped his pants. She'd hightailed it back to the club, stumbling in her unfamiliar high-heeled sandals, trying to fasten her bra and her blouse at the same time.

Eric took his seat again, setting a couple of full mugs on the table. "I ordered the cheapest beer they have." He winked and lifted his glass.

Donna's attempt at a smile failed miserably, but she raised her mug anyway and drank. "Ack."

Laughter caressed her, embraced her, and Eric leaned in close. "You wanted cheap, remember?" He took her beer and set it back on the chipped wooden table. "It's not the refreshment I'm here for. It's the company."

God. She couldn't keep up. Never had been good at slick talking.

"I've had a real nice time, too, Eric."

Those green eyes burned holes through her. Guilt and desire warred in her belly. Which would win?

"But?" He lifted a lock of hair from her shoulder, his knuckles grazing her skin.

The slight touch did more for her than all of Jack's groping and sloppy kisses ever had.

"But. I'm not used to this kind of thing. The club scene. I'm not like the other women here."

"You're right." Eric pulled back, slid his chair away from the table.

Emotion stung Donna's eyes. She blinked rapidly, sniffing away the threat of tears. Was Eric's investment of time and drinks only in pursuit of an easy lay from the fat girl? And why would he back off now, when she'd admitted her intention to get drunk? That would make her an even better target.

"You're far classier than anyone I've met in a long time, Donna." Eric slid his cell phone from his pocket. "Give me your number, and let's pick this up another time."

A date? She'd meant to get back at Jack, but could she date Eric under false pretenses?

Somehow the anonymous cheat in Brian's pickup seemed more honest than dating a nice guy like Eric, when she was already married.

hey she coulda been 20 and he was 15. of course 12 and 17 works too. she didn't know he was 12 until after.and she's not cradle robbin' nowas a matter of fact we don't know how old she is now anyway. she's just an annonymous "adult"

"Yes, I know. I've been watching you watch them. Would you like to dance?"

Her hand went to her throat. "Oh, no. No. I'm not a very good dancer, and besides, I'm married."

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did. He had beautiful eyes. Clear blue, with a hint of grey. Unusual eyes. "I wasn't asking you to come up to see my etchings. Just a dance. I promise not to tell your husband."

She wasn't sure if she should. Wasn't that being unfaithful? But like he said, he wasn't asking for sex, just a dance. She turned to look back toward the dance floor and saw LaWanda watching her, shooting her a thumbs up and mouthing 'go for it!' before her partner spun her away again.

Dillon held Josie close for another slow dance. She'd tried to escape the club after remembering their shared past, but he wouldn't hear of it. "Baby, I've seen it, touched it, tasted it," he whispered in her ear. "You're going nowhere."

So here she was, pressed up against the grown up version of Dill. Now mind, he hadn't looked like your average 12 year old years ago. But she hadn't been able to get past his age, that she'd let him touch her.

"I've thought about you over the years," he told her, his hand firmly planted on her ass. "Wondered what had happened to you."

"You don't live around here then?"

"Nope. I'm in town visiting my folks for a couple of weeks." His teeth tugged her earlobe into his mouth.

"Don't," she moaned.

"Right." He straightened up, licking his lips. "I can tell you don't like it."

Oh, no. This was just what she'd been afraid of earlier in the evening. "But what about your husband?"

"I don't have a husband. Not tonight. I've had it. I'm tired of being put down, tired of being told I'm fat and ugly and no one else would want me. I think Jack is full of shit and I'm going to prove it."

"Now Donna, you don't mean that." Midge joined them and opened her mouth at exactly the wrong time.

"You don't believe me? Watch me." With that, she left and headed back to the dance floor. Thirty secondslater she was groping Eric as they did a snappy two-step.

Midge sighed, "I think we've created a monster."

LaWanda just shrugged. "Well, gawdammit, it's about time she got a little backbone, don't ya think? If I'd been married to that jerk she calls a husband, he'd have been dead a long time ago."

"Are you coming with us or are you planning a wham-bam-thank you night?" Josie said smugly.

"I don't know what y'all are doin', but I'm gettin' me some tonight. Look over there," LaWanda said and pointed ay the hot piece she was with earlier. The boy was too cute for himself. "I want some of that. In fact, I plan to have me some of that. Can you dig it?"

How do your creative processes work? My internal Policeman is telling the Muse, no more RR until something happens in the WIP. If he doesn't shut up, she might disappear again. Then all I have is the Editor (whom we hate even more than the Policeman).

Announcer says:Will Sarah stay cornered? Has LaWanda found the perfect one-night beau? Will Donna find true love? Has Midge been left out in the cold? And will Josie finally open her eyes?So are the days of their lives.

Nancy, I was having a lot of trouble doing the word verification--I couldn't see it because the box would show up with a red X in the corner, say "word verification" in tiny type, and then there was no word to SEE.

So it was driving me insane.

Seriously, I would love to do this book for real together. For a couple of days I've got to go do what the Policeman says though. My Muse is happy, so thanks for the RR!

yes, that word verification is the pitts. first time i came to the rr I had to try 3 times before it accepted it and i was typin right every time. I think this rr can go further. maybe we should do the rest off this site???my dsl is holding now for about 5 minutes so I'm typing fast and not going back for corrections.

As for a novella, I'm all for it. Don't know how things would work on a contract, if we got one, but we could figure it out.

Either that--how about this? What we have is chapter one. What if we each take a character and flesh out her story? Make it a continuity series of shorts? Say, 15,000 words each? That would total up to 60,000 words plus the 5,000 or so we have here. Maybe someone like Samhain would be interested in it?

well, one way to do it is a corporation writing as one pseudo name and everyone being a shareholder and sharing the "profits?"how many people are we talking about? Have to go and count the characters too.josie- torimidge-donna-Gracesarah-lawanda- nancy

Well if it's only the four of us that's really doable. I'll try a stab at the remaining zaftig ladies. I'll write it off line and contact you "tori" when I'm ready for some input. is that ok with everyone??? You can email me, yahoogroup me, cave me, or even comment on my blog hotmama's world.Only made one entry on it have to get back to it, if i can stay on line!!

zaftig is yiddish for plump curvey ladies. No skinny girl is ever zaftig. Our heroines are all big beautiful woman and zaftig.by the way draumer publishing specializes in stories about big beautiful women

Guess we should take this off-line so Tori's blog won't get drenched with it.If we're all agreeable, maybe we should do a yahoo thing. Man, I can't believe I'm gonna get into another story. But, this be good!--nancy

okay guys. I'll be gone all day today, but I'll get with you tonight. I started copying the posts to a Word doc, but got interrupted to go rescue my son from his truck troubles. I'll finish tonight, then email each of you.

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About My Books

Wild child Lacy Fitzgerald may have made one bet too many. This time, the stakes are her trust fund, her freedom, and even her single status. To win, she must take her father's seed money and create a successful lingerie company in one year, and she must do it on her own. Six months into it, out of money and deeply in debt, she hires a handsome hunk to make her catalog sizzle and her sales soar.

But far from being a typical lingerie model, there's more to Gabriel Wallace than meets her eyes or her hands. Gabe isn't a down-on-his-luck construction worker standing in the unemployment line. He's not broke and desperate for any job, even one that has him posing in nothing but skin and his shorts. And he's most definitely not the kind of guy who wears skintight, heart-speckled silk briefs under his rugged jeans.

But for the chance to spend time with Lacy, Gabe will do almost anything. Anything, that is, except tell her who he really is.

To My Readers:Double Exposure is a story very dear to my heart. Lacy and Gabe deserve each other, but parental interference threatens their chance at happiness. How many of us have had the same experience? I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Desperate to break away from her overbearing mother and holier-than-thou sister, Cassie Mills takes on a moonlighting job she'd never have considered otherwise. But she needs money, and she needs it now.

Cassie runs afoul of an outdated and rarely enforced law when she decides to host Pleasure Parties. Reed Stevens is working undercover on the vice squad, not his favorite assignment, especially when he's assigned to what he considers fluff duty, cracking down on the home party sex toy business.

Cassie faces her greatest fear--what will her mother think?--and her aunt's Bridge Club. Reed faces a jealous and unstable partner, his ex-wife and her new love, and the wrath of Cassie's supporters. Neither one is prepared for the day when their professional paths cross. Shock, feelings of betrayal, lust, and love all intermingle until neither one is sure who is right and who is wrong.

Caramia Kensington makes a living setting up seduction scenes for rich playboys. Imagine her surprise when her current customer turns out to be her old high school flame, Grayson Montgomery. And the woman he plans to seduce is Cara.

Cara refused to have sex with Gray when they were fifteen. She had plans and dreams for her life, and they didn't include risking an unplanned pregnancy. She made him a promise: if they were both still single at thirty, she'd have sex with him. And the next day is her thirtieth birthday.

Gray plans to collect on that promise Cara made back in high school. But his plans don't end with one night. Somehow he has to convince her he has staying power, that he will still be there in the morning, and for the rest of her life. Not an easy task when Cara has been left by every man in her life so far.

Regina Baker has loved Sam Hyatt since the third grade, but Sam has an ideal woman in mind, and Reggie doesn't even come close. As the heir to a sizable fortune, Sam has a responsibility to marry well. His wife needs to be well bred, well educated, and well heeled. As a poor preacher's daughter with a landscaping business that barely pays the bills, Reggie feels like a mangy mutt compared to Sam's current girlfriend, who has a pedigree a mile long.

Their matchmaking friends, Cara and Gray, arrange for Sam and Reggie to join them on a two week cruise, where Sam will have a chance to see what he's been missing without the society trappings he's normally surrounded by, and Reggie will have two weeks to win Sam's heart.

Judge Madelyn Cooper never shows signs of weakness, but when a killer threatens her daughter's life, Maddie does what any mother would do. Run to the place where her daughter will be safe. And that place is Greendale, Texas. Maddie left Greendale fourteen years earlier, pregnant, broke, and without saying a word to Rand McCade. What could she say after her father killed his parents?

Rand McCade is determined to keep Greendale safe. As Sheriff, he promised there would be no repeats of the horrible day when his parents were murdered. Now Maddie is back, bringing trouble with her once again. And this time, she has a daughter. His daughter.

As a psychopath sets his sights on Maddie, Rand and Maddie must figure out who is after her, and why, before someone else ends up dead.

Logan Tanner shook the red dust of West Texas off his boots at the age of eighteen and hasn't looked back. When his father has a stroke, Logan is temporarily forced to return home and take over the family ranch. He still feels responsible for his mother's death when he was twelve, and has never gotten over the guilt. Now he's faced with having to protect his twelve year old daughter Katie and his sister and her friend Megan Flynn. It's nearly more than one man can handle. He can't wait to get back to Dallas.

Megan Flynn immediately falls in love with Morris Springs, Texas, population 976, when she delivers Logan's runaway daughter to his doorstep. Raised as a city girl, Megan has a dream of a few acres, a few champion Blue Heelers, and a small-town veterinary practice. The only thing standing between her and her dream is one stubborn, reluctant cowboy with an overprotective streak as wide as the West Texas prairie. But her stubborn streak is a match for his any day. And she's determined to prove it.

Blame it on Texas is a story of the power of love to overcome any adversity, the strength of family and friendship, and the joy that comes with being part of something bigger than yourself.

From the softer side of Tori Scott, a story of two single parents brought together by a shared accident, a teenager with an attitude, and a little girl who steals everyone's hearts.

Sandy Morrow's four year old daughter is hit by an SUV as she's riding her tricycle down the sidewalk near her home. Her new next door neighbors, Hunter Thurman and his son Jason, had been arguing just before Jason jumped in the vehicle and took off without looking behind him. Now her daughter has a concussion and a broken leg,and Sandy has a sexy neighbor who will stop at nothing to make it up to her.Whether she wants him to or not.

Hunter Thurman has a mission: to fix the mess his son has made and to fix the mess he's made of his son's life. He is determined to take care of his next door neighbor and her daughter after the accident, but Sandy is independent and determined to take care of herself, insisting she doesn't need Hunter's help.

This book is dedicated to the men and women who leave homes and families to defend their country and champion freedom across the globe. You have our everlasting gratitude and we pray for your safety.

About Me

Award winning, Amazon best-selling author Tori Scott lives in East Texas with her husband Tony and her dog Blue. When she's not writing, you might find her taking pictures of random things or hanging out on Facebook or Twitter.